


formula.

by seokheartstan



Series: TSV Oneshots [2]
Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Out of Character, help why did i write this, hornee, literally none of this makes logical sense sorry, oh boy, twosetviolin - Freeform, weirdly kinda emotional at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seokheartstan/pseuds/seokheartstan
Summary: "Don't you think this is too formulaic?"Based off of Eddy's all-too-often arm grabbing.
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: TSV Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862818
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	formula.

It all begins with a cry of "opera, opera!" and suddenly, Brett feels an unrelenting grip on his left arm. Eddy's short nails dig into his skin, the pressure hard enough to bruise. Brett's deadpan doesn't waver as he watches Eddy violently shake as part of his mockery, and rolls his eyes to add insult to injury. Neither of the two thinks anything of it as they turn the camera off and check the footage to make sure it's okay to send off to the editor. 

Next week, after a day of filming, Eddy and Brett collapse on the couch in the next room over in a fit of exhaustion. Brett groans about his sore back, and Eddy pulls his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans to scroll through social media. They sit in complacent, comfortable silence for quite a while, until Brett gets tired of staring boredly at the TV. 

"What are you looking at?" he asks, looking over Eddy's shoulder to see what was causing that slight little smirk on his face as he navigates through Twitter. Eddy clicks on a video captioned "OMG. His grip on Brett" and Brett watches the replay of Eddy grabbing his arm with a steel grip. He doesn't know how to feel about him being paired with his best friend, or the apparent veins in Eddy's arm as the video replays again. 

Eddy makes a little noise of acknowledgement. "Huh. I guess they liked it," he murmurs. "Maybe we should step up the fanservice. Just a little bit, you know? I don't think there's any harm in doing something like this if it gets this much traction." He observes Brett's spaced-out face and slaps him on the shoulder. "Hey, earth to Brett, are you even listening?" 

Brett's eyes widen as he comes back out of his thoughts with an "oh, what?" and then turns to face Eddy. "Yeah, I guess it's not too bad of an idea." 

"Great."

When they start up filming again, Eddy makes sure to grab his arm yet again. Brett doesn't react, just lets it happen and feels the press of Eddy's fingers into his flesh. When Eddy releases after a few seconds, he almost misses the warmth of his hand. 

More comments and tweets flood their Twitter as everyone seems to enjoy watching the skinship. Comments like "hot" and "now we know who tops" flutter around the app and get caught in the web of Twoset's vision. There's an indescribable tension birthed between Brett and Eddy, and Brett's not sure if he likes it or not. 

Eddy does it in the next video, and the video after that. It seemed that every given opportunity, Eddy would exercise his control over Brett, initiating some form of contact. Brett becomes used to it, and the fans become used to it, eventually catching onto their tactic. 

Brett's scrolling through Twitter one day when one tweet from a fan catches his eye: "Haha they're really gonna keep using this formula until we stop talking about it LOOOL". A bitter feeling builds in the pit of his stomach, but he knows it's true. It's all for show, all for the fans, though it doesn't get rid of the weird taste in his mouth. They weren't necessarily being... fake by doing this, right?

Eddy keeps doing it. Sure enough, the next video released has that same grab as Eddy invades Brett's personal space to grab his upper arm yet again. This time, Brett goes quiet, his arm limp in his hold, and Eddy tries to carry on with the rest of the video like the air around them hasn't changed. 

"What was that about?" he asks immediately after the camera is turned off. Brett shrugs. He doesn't know how to explain his feelings to Eddy without making him feel like he's done something wrong, but he knows he has to speak up otherwise Eddy will think he's done something wrong anyways. 

"Don't you think this is too...formulaic?" Brett ventures, wincing as he echoes the sentiment of the fan on Twitter. 

"What is? Me touching you?" 

Intolerable silence fills the air again. Brett doesn't know what to say when Eddy puts it like that. Peacekeeping was never something he was great at. 

"I-I just mean, if we do it too much, fans are bound to get bored of it. It's like releasing the same content over and over again." 

Eddy nods in understanding. "Okay, we'll keep it to a minimum," he decides. "I still like messing with you, though."

Brett's ears flush red in embarrassment, mind wandering to places it really shouldn't over such a simple statement. 

The next few filming sessions go by easily, some more serious, some more lighthearted. The comments about Eddy's penchant for touching Brett dissipate. The tension that was once there has completely dissolved, and Brett's almost grateful for it. While whatever turn their relationship was taking was fun, it was simultaneously dangerous and unknown. It's never safe to venture too far from one's comfort zone, particularly when it comes to things like this. 

It all goes downhill again. During the last video to film, Eddy reaches out and seizes Brett's arm one more. This time, not even the strongest of deadpan can save Brett and his eyes widen in surprise. Eddy's grip is much stronger than before, a vice-like clutch that sears itself into Brett's skin. Time seems to go in slow motion as Eddy throws an unreadable look at Brett, and then turns back to face the camera, never releasing his hold on his counterpart. Instead, he tucks their arms under the table, attempting to discreetly hide their contact.

It's all too much. Brett feels like he's sweating under the heat of Eddy's hand. His grip doesn't let up, and when Eddy asks him a question, Brett can barely register it. All he's thinking about is the burn of Eddy's grasp, and how confusingly sweetly it hurts. He nods his head, hoping it suffices for an answer to whatever Eddy asked, and Eddy doesn't press him. As Eddy concludes the video he finally lets go of Brett's wrist, and Brett waves goodbye as Eddy reaches over the table and shuts off the camera. 

It stings more now that the pressure is relieved, Brett realises. Brett's brain can't seem to process words properly as he rolls up his sleeve and looks at the results of Eddy's hold. Red and purple marks bloom across his forearm and stand out against his pale skin. 

"Oh," is all that can come out of Brett's mouth as he gawks at the forming bruises. Eddy looks up from across the room, and walks over to Brett, hunched over and staring blankly at Eddy's handiwork. 

When Brett casts his gaze upwards, he realises Eddy is towering over him. Eddy gently picks up Brett's wrist. Brett pliantly lets him. Eddy hasn't uttered a word since the end of their filming session, but he stares Brett in the eyes like he wants to eat him. 

Eddy abruptly yanks Brett out of his chair by his wrist, pulling him closer to Eddy, and in one swift motion, their mouths collide.

It's chaste, at the beginning. Eddy pulls away quickly after his experiment, leaving Brett wide-eyed and at a loss for words. When Eddy cups his face gently, Brett intrinsically knows this is his silent request for permission. This is dangerous territory that Eddy wants to dive right into, but fuck, who's to say Brett's never been one for rash decisions? When he nods, Eddy leans in with a certain look in his eyes, and again Brett intrinsically knows that his best friend intends on ravishing him. 

Brett makes a noise of surprise that's promptly swallowed by Eddy, as he tugs him impossibly closer and presses down on the bruises on Brett's arm. Brett jolts in his hold and shocks himself with the moan he lets out in response--he feels Eddy smirk against his lips, all too knowing of Brett's newfound reaction when he loops his arm around the small of Brett's back. This isn't the Eddy Brett knows, this is proud and confident, a far cry from the Eddy of the past, and in the heat of the moment Brett briefly wonders how long Eddy's been hiding this side of himself. 

He's never really seen Eddy like this. He's seen Eddy at the bar, he's seen Eddy shitfaced drunk, he's seen Eddy twerking and trying his best to be feminine or cocky or masculine or sassy but god he's never seen him like _this._ He's seen Eddy attempting to pick up girls, he's seen what he thinks was Eddy trying to court a boy but he's never seen Eddy so predatorial, so ambitious in his seductive conquest for someone. It's a little bit terrifying, watching the man he's known all his life advance on him like he's almost someone entirely different. 

Eddy's carding his hands through Brett's hair like he's done this thousands of times before, as if they've been lovers for a lifetime. The illusion vanishes as quickly as it comes when he tilts his face to get better access to Brett's lips. Their glasses click against one another in an ear-grating action and Eddy shies away from his face in embarrassment.

It was a facade, Brett realises, and smiles, part in endearment and part in relief. The puppy dog eyes are back, and Brett feels the remnants of that nerdy kid he met over a decade ago shine through in Eddy's shyness. Everything suddenly feels a little more real, Eddy's calloused fingerpads on his arm, the burning aftermath of touch. Time seems to slow down. 

"Tell me, is this too formulaic for you?" Eddy asks, but his diction doesn't unclothe a single trace of that confidence poured into the mess of their moment; he catches his breath. His lips are red, doe eyes behind glasses skewed on the bridge of his nose and his sudden retreat from coquettish behaviour bewilders Brett. He can't help but continue to stare at Eddy, can't help but wish that their lips were connected as he remains silent. And Eddy seems to catch on to his intentions, but he knows better than to let Brett have the upper hand.

Eddy laughs, almost in shock at his own behaviour. He takes off his glasses and tosses them onto their filming table. "Come on, use your words, won't you?" he teases, edging on a mischievous tone as he lets his right hand trail downwards from the small of Brett's back to below his buttock. He gives one of those grins, the ones where you can see his front teeth prod delicately at his lower lip. Brett can only watch as his companion oscillates rapidly between shy and flirtatious.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he attempts in an act of coercion, but to Brett's ears it sounds almost like a whine. His best friend receives silence as a reply, nothing but the whirring hum of Eddy's laptop providing some sort of filler sound. 

Brett just stands there, thinking about the bruises on his left forearm and the way they stand: awkwardly, bruised arms and bruised lips, body pressed against body in a room that is entirely too small for such romance to bloom, film equipment scattered on the floor as they waltz in-between the wires in their entanglement. Two people, in a tiny apartment in Australia, slowly drifting on a planet merely a dot in the universe. Funny. Out of all the possible moments, confessions and paths leading to their inescapable romance, this is the one fate chose for them. 

If Brett was a little more sentimental, he'd linger on this thought for a while longer as his thoughts float endlessly along the ocean of his conscience. Fortunately, Brett is not a very sentimental person, and he can't bring himself to be one-- not when Eddy Chen is right in front of him, waiting for an answer. And after being stunned into silence, yes, Brett knows exactly what he wants to tell Eddy. 

And thus, Eddy receives his answer in the form of a grip on the collar of his shirt and a scorching pair of lips against his. He stops complaining at the lack of verbal communication when Brett's imprinted arm snakes around Eddy's neck to play with the hair on his nape. How utterly (un)predictable. 

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this and I couldn't help myself,,, hopefully everyone enjoys :) Btw, I'm open to constructive criticism if anyone has any! I'm always looking to better myself as a writer.


End file.
